


Graceless

by Southbroom



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humour, Idiots in Love, Light-Hearted, POV Tyrion Lannister, sword fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 12:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13167144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southbroom/pseuds/Southbroom
Summary: Jaime seems to be in denial.





	Graceless

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a 5-chapter work but I've reworked the chapters into an upcoming story with an actual P L O T. This chapter did not fit into my new story, hence it staying as a one shot. Hope you enjoy reading it because I liked writing it.
> 
> Stay tuned, kids! My big story is well on its way.

_Tyrion_

Tyrion found him there, backed up against the walls of the stables. He had become so accustomed to seeing him sulking around the castle alone that seeing _her_ seated beside him came as a surprise.

The woman’s lumbering body completely dwarfed his brother (which was saying something because Jaime was not exactly a small man). Her legs were stretched out in the snow, looking like two great mountains. The lady-knight’s shoulders, of equal width to Jaime’s, was the same diameter as her hips. Her heavy armour made her look like a third Clegane sibling. Brienne of Tarth was _massive,_ even to someone who was not an Imp.

And yet she laughed with a musical, girlish sound that did not match her stature at all. It came out of her in waves. She giggled with her hand in front of her mouth at first - all too polite - and later tripped over her own guffaws. Eventually her laughs came out like the call of some tropical bird. They were giggles worthy of Sansa Stark.

Jaime was not far off from the Maid of Tarth. He was grinning wider than a dog after a walk. After he told her a one-line jape, he cracking into a roaring sound that Tyrion had not heard since the nights they spent together consuming wineskin upon wineskin as young men.

Their shoulder pads clanked together as they laughed.

Her hand tapped his thigh, an action that seemed unconscious.

Tyrion wondered whether he should return later, cringing upon realising that he was eavesdropping. But he could not resist it. It seemed his brother and the Tarth wench were much, much closer that they let on in polite conversation. Just as Tyrion was about to turn on his heels, Jaime caught his attention again.

“Is it time for round two, _my fair lady_?”

Brienne rolling her eyes.

“Shall we resume our routine of you kicking bad men like me into the dust?”

Jaime got back onto his feet, skilfully picking up two wooden tourney swords with one hand. He offered one to her. She accepted it, checking its balance before exchanging it from one hand to the other.

“I’ll attempt fighting with my left this time, Ser Jaime. Mayhaps we can-“

The woman’s voice raised about two octaves as she fell, feet high in the air. Her graceless body came down onto the frozen earth, making a hard thud in the process.

“Gods! Wench?”

She had mistaken a layer of ice for the freshly-fallen powdery snow that covered it; and had slipped. Dramatically. Jaime bent over her as she lay on the ground. She groaned like a cow in labour.

“Brienne. Are you hurt? Your back…”

She reached for his arms, blinded by pain. The power of her grip forced Jaime’s hand clean off of his arm. She held it in her grasp for a moment before collapsing back onto the ground.

“Brienne!” he cried. Jaime’s face was lit by shock and concern. He fumbled over her, torn between checking her body for wounds and running for help.

Brienne arched her back into the snow. Her body bent at awkward angles as she made nonsensical noises of agony. It took a while before Tyrion realised that they were indeed another fit of giggles.

She held the hand in the air, still clad in Jaime’s glove, waving it around hysterically.

“D-d-donkey!” she blurted out. The context of the word was missing, but Tyrion assumed it related to some inside joke. 

Jaime’s worry evaporated, “You stupid wench! You can’t just- Donkey!“

And then they were off again. Jaime bend double; Brienne had tears rolling off her flushed cheeks. They were mad children. Tyrion suspected that they did have some wineskins after all, because they just seemed too bloody merry for Winterfell and its frozen misery.

Once Jaime pulled her up, she checked the movement in her legs and hips. Nothing seemed damaged, yet he remained concerned.

“I’m fine, stop wittering.”

“Fine? You cracked the ice were you fell!”

“Well nothing’s broken. I will feel normal once we start moving again.”

“I’m not sparring with you when you nearly shattered your spine, Brienne. Besides, there could be other icy depths underneath the snow.” Jaime eyed the floor suspiciously, “Go and get some rest.”

She eyed him seriously. “I really think we should continue-”

“I’m not fighting you when you’re injured-“

“I’ll feel guilty about missing it-”

“Don’t.” he said with an air of finality.

“Well I suppose Pod will be wondering here I am at this time.” She paused, “If it is at no inconvenience-“

“It isn’t, relax, wench. I’m late for a meeting with my brother regardless. This is a blessing in disguise.”

“It doesn’t feel like a blessing from the Gods, I can assure you.”

“Ha! I knew you were lying about the extent of your injuries. It does hurt, doesn’t it?”

She groaned. He raised an eyebrow. “Be gone with you, wench! Rest!”

Her wides strides had her halfway across the quad before she turned back. “Oh… I forgot.” she said, gently placing his golden hand into his other. All the hysteric laughter gone, she gave him a watery smile.

Jaime’s gaze was fixated on the back of her head until she was around the corner. 

Knowing it was his turn, Tyrion stepped out the shadows. He called out in a booming voice: “Big brother! I had some pressing matters to discuss regarding the front line, but it seems we have even more pressing matters.”

“How so?” Jaime asked, his face scrunching up in concentration. How he resembled their father when he played army general.

“Why, your feelings for the Maiden of Tarth.” 

“The Maid of- _Brienne_? I don’t have feelings for Brienne.” he said, sounding genuinely puzzled.

“No. Of course not. You’re only madly in love with the wench, that’s all.”

“In love?” he scoffed, trying to cover his shock. Tyrion smirked when he saw his brother’s eyes bulged out of his skull. “ _Please_.”

“Oh, my dear brother. I have not seen you quiet so captivated with a female since you and our sweet sister were sixteen. So captivated, in fact, that you were giggling. Giggling, Jaime, _giggling_. Like a maid of one-and-ten.”

“The wench and I enjoy our sparring, it’s true. I don’t know what possessed you to think I would-“ he stammered.

“You would what, exactly?” Tyrion prompted idly.

“But you’re one to talk.” he said darkly, changing the subject, “You with your soft eyes for the Targaryen Queen.”

“Its true that I was somewhat inclined towards Daenerys when I first met her. Then I came to my senses and realised she is much too young and naiive for the likes of an Imp. Especially when there are others competing for her hand.”

“You admit that?”

“Well if you haven’t noticed Jon Snow following her-“

“I know that the Stark bastard is friendly with Daenerys. It was the first thing I heard riding through the castle walls.” he said impatiently, “But do you admit to have had _inclinations_ towards the Dragon Queen?”

“Freely. I was terribly lonely why I first arrived in Essos. After the disaster with Shae and our lord father… I promised myself to never lay hands on another whore. A Targaryen princess seemed a good place to start. Daenerys was impressive and powerful, but also venerable. She needed a mentor more than she a lover. I came to value her friendship after time.”

Jaime pulled a face, out of dislike for the Dragon Queen or the sentiment in Tyrion’s words.

“Don’t get me wrong, she still looks like a goddess…”

“And you are the god of tits and wine.”

“Exactly. Which is why my feelings for the Queen passed by. Your feelings for the Maid cannot be singularly justified by lust.”

“I do not know where you get your strange notions, brother-" 

“And I no not where you get your’s!”

“Oh, for the sake of the seven gods, Tyrion. She’s - she’s gigantic.” he said lamely, “And a sore sight for the eyes.”

“Are you taking about Brienne of Tarth?” a thick Fleabottom accent questioned.

“What other woman could could you describe as being ‘a sore sight for the bloody eyes’, eh Seaworth?”

“You should be gentler with your words, Clegane.” Davos warned, “The Maid of Tarth is respected amongst the Northerners.”

“Why? Everyone from the Wall to the sands of Dorne know’s she a vile feast for the eyes. And everyone thinks that, except for that orange Wildling bloke.”

“That’s not true.” Gentry pointed out, “I heard Renly Baratheon had a soft spot for the maiden.”

“The wee, frilly one who had Loras tucked is his back pocket? I don’t fucking believe that.”

Tyrion laughed despite himself. Clegane might have a rude, course tongue, but once he got going, he had as much wordplay in him as any Lannister.

He glanced up at his brother, seeing his scowl at the Hound. Tyron caught his eyes, and they shared an unspoken surprise with the sudden addition of participants in their conversation. But instead of laughing at the men’s banter, Jaime came up to defend the maid’s honour.

“Shut it, Clegane.” Jaime grimaced, “Don’t speak about things you know nothing about.”

“For you, Kingslayer? Never in my life. That bitch nearly hacked my head clean off. That is, after she bit my ear off.”

Clegane raised his stringy hair to reveal a missing ear. Gendry made a hissing sound.

“Brienne is a warrior, and one of the most honourable people I have had the pleasure to meet. If she bit your ear off, I am sure it was with good reason. By all means, Clegane, continue praising Brienne for her skill of sword, just leave Renly Baratheon out of it. She stopped being in love with him once he died, which I will remind you, was nearly five years ago." 

The three men fell silent, surprised by Jaime’s vigorous debating. Tyrion smirked at his brother, a discreet _I told you so_. If Tyrion doubted what he saw in the quad, it was confirmed and cast in stone with Jaime’s stunned face. His expression shifted from embarrassment, to confusion, to horrified realisation.

“Well, why were you talking about the Brienne in the first place?” Davos asked politely. It was a attempt to make the conversation less awkward.

“Yes, why were we talking about Brienne?” Tyrion asked comically, full of mock cluelessness.

“Tyrion noted what a good warrior she is.” Jaime answered lamely. “Myself and the wench were duelling.”

“Can you fight without a hand?” Gendry asked doubtfully.

“You bet your bastard arse I can.” Jaime said, barking back into his Lannister ways of conjuring up insults out of thin air. 

Tyrion smiled as the blacksmith and his brother argued about each other’s skill in combat; with Clegane chipping in with his course tongue and Seaworth acting as peacekeeper. Tyrion saw though, behind his brother’s easy words there was a panic. A big panic. Jaime was starting to draw to the conclusion that his comrade-in-arms was more, much more, than only a sparring partner.

x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are the purest form of love.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are the purest form of love.


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